They’d made plans for him to come over at six on Christmas Eve because she should have been done with her shift by then, but he got a text at four saying she was going to be kept late at the hospital and she didn’t know when she was going to be done and could he pick up some takeaway somewhere and meet her at her home? She’d given him a key when he started spending the night so he would be able to let himself in without picking her lock. He’d been in his lab at St. Barts when he got the message and so he texted her back to ask what she was in the mood for. He got a reply back for Mediterranean and he’d decided to go to Haz St Pauls, if it was open, considering the day.
It was within walking distance from the hospital and he made his way there, looking at the a la carte menu and deciding what sounded appealing to him and what might sound good to Molly and would still be tasty if it ended up having to be reheated. When he got there, though, he found out they delivered and that they were going to be open later that evening, despite the holiday. He picked up a menu to take back in case Molly didn’t have one and then made his way to his flat to collect the last of his gifts for Molly so they would be under her tree when she woke up. She had roped him into helping to decorate earlier in the month and he had to admit it didn’t look too bad. She’d even hauled out decorations at Baker Street, though he didn’t have a tree there since he’d planned on being at Molly’s on Christmas morning.
He was never one to give gifts. He had no problem receiving them, but giving them was another matter. Molly got most of the ones he’d procured this holiday season, though John and Mary and their daughter had some, and he had picked up a few things for his mother, a book for his father he had thought he might want, and even something for his brother, though that was not being brought to their parents home tomorrow, having been surreptitiously delivered to his brother’s office earlier by Wiggins. Mycroft loathed the man but he wouldn’t turn him away, unlike other members of Sherlock’s homeless network, considering Wiggins had become respectable since the last Christmas. This was a combination Christmas present and thank you gift for giving him the opportunity to have something with Molly. It was suited for him and Sherlock hoped he enjoyed it and said nothing about it tomorrow.
When he got to Molly’s flat there was a gift basket outside that was being covertly watched by one of Mycroft’s staff. He must have appreciated the gift more than he expected, Sherlock though, giving a discrete nod to the man watching the basket. He got up and left and Sherlock shifted a few things to unlock the door and carry it all in. It was addressed to both him and Molly and he did nothing except pull out the bottle of wine that was in the basket. That, obviously, was meant for Molly since he rarely touched the stuff, but he could tell by the make and vintage it was very good and very expensive. She would enjoy a glass when it was properly chilled.
He set his gifts under the tree, as well as the rest of the basket, and then set the bottle in the refrigerator next to her open one before lounging on her sofa, flipping through the channels on her telly. At eight twenty his mobile rang and it was Molly. “I think I can leave in about twenty, twenty-five minutes,” she said once he answered.
“Good. The woman I spoke to at Haz St Pauls said if I got my order in by eight thirty they’d be able to deliver it, otherwise I’d have to go in and bring it back myself.”
“Oh! I go there a lot. I love their a la carte menu,” she said. “I think I have one of the menus here in the office.” He heard some rustling of paper on her end and then there was quiet for a moment. “Found it!” There was a pause as she studied the menu. “I want the karisik guvech for dinner and some enginar to start with, and maybe some patates koftesi? And some imam bayildi.” There was a short pause. “And maybe falafel, too.”
Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “Did you work through your lunch?”
“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “I suppose you heard through hospital gossip but Dr. Koops was killed in an accident in Leeds while he was on vacation and he was supposed to be back tomorrow to work the holidays. I’m scrambling to get coverage, but I’ve stayed late to try and get as much as I can so that Dr. Shaw, bless her, doesn’t have as much work to do tomorrow. I may still come in in the afternoon, though, to help.”
“So I suppose this means I need to brave my parents home on my own,” he said with a sigh.
“I can come in mid-morning, stay until two, maybe?” Molly asked tentatively. “Then go back home and change and we can be at your parents for dinner by four thirty. We’ll be late but I’m sure they’ll understand.”
He considered it. His mother would understand; after all, she was used to delays and nonappearances due to work from her sons and had been for years. A delay due to a son’s girlfriend’s job being short staffed shouldn’t be a problem. “So long as your Christmas morning isn’t spoiled I suppose that could work.”
“Well, I’m up at the crack of dawn,” she said with a soft laugh. “I should hang up now so you can call to get everything delivered and I can get my things together and get home. It’ll be a race to see who gets there first, I think.” She paused for a moment. “I love you.”
His heart warmed at hearing those three simple words. “I love you too, Molly,” he said, a smile crossing his face. “I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and called the restaurant, placing Molly’s order and then adding in his own for ahtapot salatasi, patlican biber kizartma and kul basti. They said it would take about thirty-five minutes, which he felt was good, all things considered, and he settled in to wait.
The food arrived before Molly did by fifteen minutes, and based on the descriptions in the menu he was able to tell whose food was what and so he had it separated on the table in front of her sofa. When he heard her locks being undone he got up to go pour her a glass of wine from the bottle she had open in her refrigerator, having put the glass in the refrigerator to let it chill as well. By the time she was fully inside her flat he had the wine in hand and was bringing it to her. She gave him a wide smile. “You’re a godsend,” she said, setting her handbag down on the chair and unwrapping her scarf from her neck.
“I just thought you could use one,” he said.
She took the glass once she had her scarf and coat off and took a sip, shutting her eyes. “Just what I needed.” They made their way to the sofa and she sat down and looked at all the food in front of her usual side, her eyes slightly wide. “I forgot about portion sizes.”
“Leftovers are a very good thing,” Sherlock said, sitting down.
“They are, aren’t they?” she said with a smile as she sat next to him, setting her wine glass down and reaching for some patates koftesi. She took a bite and moaned slightly in delight. “This is so good.”
His brain temporarily shut down at the sound of her moan. Now that they were sharing a bed he had thought about things, more intimate things, happening between them. He had wondered if all of her skin was as soft as the skin on her arms, if she would make soft noises or moan loudly as he pleasured her, if there was a feisty side to her that she only shared with her lovers. The sound of her moaning, even if it was just at the simple delight of having good food, made him think about it for a moment. But then he was able to get back to what he was doing, which was reaching for his own food to eat, and it seemed she had not noticed.
She turned the telly off after she had a few more bites of her patates koftesi and put on her iPod. Not a Christmas playlist, surprisingly; rather it was music they both enjoyed, a mixture of pop music he found slightly better than tolerable and classical music and opera he enjoyed. He turned to look at her after a little while, when they were nearly halfway done with their meal. “I’m surprised you didn’t opt for the radio or the television,” he said.
“I thought it would be nice to relax a bit,” she said, picking up her wine glass again and taking a sip. “It’s been a very long day and I’m at home with my loving and attentive boyfriend who’s giving me the best Christmas gift by staying the night and being there when I wake up Christmas morning so I’m not all alone.” She set her glass back down and moved closer. “I think that’s a rather sweet thing.”
“So now I’m sweet?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips.
“With me, at least,” she said.
He reached over to pull her closer, shifting slightly so he was leaning against the arm of the sofa and she was on top of him. He reached up and pulled her hair out of the elastic band that was holding it back, and then ran his fingers through it. “You see a side of me few people do,” he said.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I feel honoured for that.”
“As you should,” he replied. “You’re the first person I’ve ever given my heart to, wholly and completely. I am yours, in any way you want me.”
“In any way?” she asked, a smile crossing her face as she moved her face closer to his. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he murmured, moving his hand to grip the back of her head to guide her in for a kiss as she leaned in more. Their lips met and she kissed him slowly but passionately, a kiss that he knew meant to say “Let’s take our time tonight, since we have all the time in the world.” And he responded by moving his hand down to the back of her head and then to her neck, finally settling it on her shoulder.
The kiss went on until he she needed to breathe, and then she pulled away to leave feather light kisses on his jaw line as she pulled back slightly and moved her hand to begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. She moved to his neck, nipping at his skin just a bit and eliciting a groan from him each time, and once she got to his collarbone she began to move down his chest as each button was undone. He wanted to keep her close but she made her way lower, undoing his shirt and exploring his chest.
When she got to the waistband of his trousers she lifted her head up and gave him a grin. He was already hard, straining slightly against the zipper, and she began to caress his erection through the fabric. He grit his teeth and after a moment sat up, swiftly pulling her onto his lap. “Sherlock?” she asked, surprised.
“I want to kiss you until I absolutely have to stop to breathe,” he said quietly. “I want to taste every inch of you, I want to make you beg and moan and whimper, I want to bury myself deep inside of you, and I can’t do that with you tormenting me with your lips and your hands on this bloody sofa.”
Her eyes went wide as he spoke but after a moment she looked at him with such a lust filled gaze that he was glad he had told her exactly what he wanted. “Then we should move this to the bedroom,” she said, licking her lips slightly. She got up off his lap and offered him a hand, and he took it. The minute he was off the sofa she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, and he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, one that had her sliding her hands up to his shoulders to hold on for dear life.
After a few minutes he began moving them towards her bedroom, trying hard not to remove his lips from hers. Along the way they began to shed articles of clothing; his shirt was among the first to go, and she had been quite surprised to find he didn’t wear pants, but only for a moment before she reached forward and began stroking him. Her hands felt so good, so perfect. Better than his own had felt when he was alone and thinking of her. He stopped, enjoying the sensation for a moment. They were so close to her bedroom, so damn close.
She still had her bra and knickers on, so he reached for her knickers. Instead of going for her waistband, though, he reached between her legs, running his hand back and forth against the fabric. Her knickers were soaked. She moaned at the touch, her movements stilling, and after a moment he moved his hand away. “Sherlock…” she said, her voice pleading. “Please.”
He moved forward, backing her against the wall, and then slipped his hand inside her knickers, running his fingers along her slick folds, slipping one inside her, moving it in and out slowly before adding a second. She arched away from the wall, moving her hands to his shoulders to stay up. After a few moment s he slowly sank to his knees in front of her, ignoring his throbbing erection for the moment, and removed his hand from her knickers. He reached up for the waistband and lowered them down to her knees and then to her ankles before nudging her legs farther apart, resting his hands on her thighs, just above her knees. She moved her hands to tangle her fingers in her hair as he buried his face between her thighs.
The moan that come from low in the throat was mesmerizing, he thought as he licked and sucked at her most intimate parts. She tugged on his curls, and the occasional sharp pain made his erection twitch in anticipation. He could hear her head tilt back and occasionally bounce against the wall as he teased her with his tongue, drawing out her pleasure to a chorus of yeses and pleases. Hearing her beg was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and as the sounds got louder and he could feel her thighs begin to shake he tightened his hold on her, not stopping. She moaned loudly as she came and only when she sagged slightly did he pull away, motioning for her to join him on the floor. It wasn’t ideal, but he needed to be inside her now, buried inside her as deep as he could be.
She sank down, almost bonelessly, knowing what he wanted. She straddled him, grasping his erection in both hands, and lowered herself onto it. She gasped slightly as he filled her and he let her get used to him, let himself revel in the feeling of perfection that he felt at this moment, and then, with his hands on her hips, she rose up and almost took him out of her completely before lowering herself again. He surged up, driving himself as deep as he could, and she moaned again, that beautiful, sweet sound. They began to build up a rhythm, slow at first but soon picking up speed as he realized she was close to her second orgasm. He wanted to share it with her, go over the edge with her, and when she came she had his name on her lips, and he had hers.
They remained locked together for a few moments, her leaning against him, placing small kisses on his neck and jaw, him running his hands down her sweat slicked back. It took him a moment to remember that they forgot something quite practical and his eyes widened. “Not to ruin the moment, but…we weren’t careful,” he said quietly.
“I’ve been on birth control since I started dating Tom,” she said quietly. “I was going to stop when we got married but since that didn’t happen I stayed on. And I’ve been tested. I’m assuming you have as well.” He nodded just slightly. “But I have rubbers in my nightstand drawer if we make it to the bed next time.”
“I suppose I’ll have to start carrying some,” he said.
“If it’s going to be like that every time than yes, because I’m going to want to shag you as often as possible, and I may not be picky about where,” she said, pulling back slightly with a gleam in her eye.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be quieter, then.”
“You’ll have to kiss me more, then,” she countered. “Swallow up all my moans and noises.”
“But I like your moans and noises,” he said, leaning in. “I like hearing you beg and I like knowing I’m pleasing you.”
“Mmm, then we’ll have to work out a happy medium, won’t we?” she said, leaning in as well. “I think a shower sounds good right about now, don’t you?”
“What about dinner?” he asked.
“I’ll put it away later,” she said, leaning in more. “I think I’d like to share a shower with the great Sherlock Holmes.” She brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “See if we can upgrade him to amazing.”
“I’ll rise to the challenge,” he murmured, reaching up to keep her close.
“I hope you do,” she said before she kissed him again. He hadn’t quite expected things to go the way they had but he had absolutely no regrets, and he had high hopes for how things would go from here on out.